Five things Saionji Kaoru gave up and one he intended to keep
by Lerry Hazel
Summary: Omi goes to the USA. Kaoru totally doesn't miss him.
1. 1&2

**Disclaimer: _No, I do not, blah-blah-blah_.**

**Warning: _I guess it's technically pre-slash, even though the way I see it, Kaoru won't figure out that part for quite some time._**

* * *

**FIVE THINGS SAIONJI KAORU GAVE UP AND ONE HE INTENDED TO KEEP**

_**=1=**_

It had seemed such a great opportunity. With the Chairman still too busy with his new-found nursery-school-crush to require their 'help', the timing had been perfect. Omi's talents undoubtedly deserved more recognition than general assumption that he had gotten the 'platinum list'. And, really, who would have thought that Saionji Kaoru, BL's resident mathematic genius who could extract cube-roots in his head, couldn't remember how he liked his own tea?

Kaoru took a deep breath, winced at the wet stain now blossoming on the wall and ordered two nameless freshmen (first of the many aiming to overtake the Treasury next year) to clean up what remained of his finest china cup and to fetch him a bottle of mineral water from the vending machine in the hall.

It was a minor inconvenience, really. Omi's internship in Boston would not last long.

* * *

_**=2=**_

Omi had always been a bit of a neat freak; Kaoru didn't really care as long as he looked presentable. So, no matter how much Omi nagged him about it, Kaoru wouldn't bother with the laundry unless it was absolutely necessary. It rarely was. Back at home they had a housemaid, and during his first two years in Bell Liberty there was Shinomiya Koji with his indefatigable desire to maintain order and unlimited supply of brooding reclusive prodigies (namely Iwai Takuto) who, in the worthy dorm leader's expert opinion, desperately needed work therapy in order to improve their social skills.

Of course, Shinomiya had graduated and his successor now spent his days revoking privileges in order to remind everybody that he was not, in fact, obliged to comfort homesick freshmen, cook extra desserts to celebrate random academic achievements, do maintenance work when specialists couldn't get there fast enough, and knock on every door, making sure no one had overslept, missed dinner or left the bed sheets out in the rain. Thankfully, he didn't consider unauthorized graffiti his problem either, so tips on choosing the correct program of washing still ran down the walls of the laundry room in Iwai's fine kanjis. Unfortunately, the tips didn't cover forgetting dark-green neckerchiefs in white trousers pockets, mistaking stain remover for liquid detergent or ignoring the 'dry cleaning only' signs. And they didn't help with holes and tears either.

Originally Kaoru had been convinced that he only allowed Omi to randomly steady him or steer him away from minor obstacles in order to indulge his friend's protective side. He had been forced to slightly re-evaluate his point on their first day in secondary school, when, upon overhearing some mocking remarks, he had ordered Omi to stop manhandling him. From his subsequent walking into a closed glass door and not landing on his ass only because Omi, for once, had chosen to disobey his instructions, Kaoru had concluded he had subconsciously got used to arranging pretexts for his friend's overprotectiveness.

A bit too used, apparently. By the end of the second week of Omi's absence Kaoru had broken his personal record of simultaneous bruising (set when Omi tried to introduce him to the wonders of roller-skating). In the middle of the third he got distracted pondering a curious new article on Poincaré conjecture and didn't get away from Shunsuke's infamous bike fast enough. Pointedly ignoring the exaggeratedly apologetic sophomore and his helping hand, Kaoru rose to his feet and started limping back to the dorms, intending to exchange the torn, dirty and slightly bloodied rag he ended up wearing for another posh white gakuran, - only to be greeted with a pile of equally unsalvageable items at the bottom of his otherwise empty wardrobe.

* * *

Shopping for clothes with Omi had always been hell. He would keep repeating 'As long as you like it, Kaoru' in that infuriatingly calm dreamy voice of his, but his ever-present smile would quirk just so, and Kaoru would hastily discard the suit he had declared perfect, try on a couple of similar models in dozed different colour schemes and end up buying the complete opposite of what he originally had in mind.

Shopping on his own, as Kaoru discovered after forty minutes and fourteen increasingly provocative outfits, was even worse: without the quirking smile he seemed unable to discern where peculiar ended and weird began. The mocking 'delicate wash' labels didn't help matters either. Still, something had to be done unless he wanted to walk around wearing his yoga sweatsuit (which was now dirty-grey, rather than pale turquoise, but at least still long enough).

In the end, he paid for two pairs of jeans (which, according to the shop assistant, should be impossible to ruin) and five sweaters nearly identical to the one Omi had given him for his last birthday. After all, if he couldn't remember the actual reason why he was so reluctant to wear the uniform (besides "you would look awful in red" from ten-year-old Omi, who obviously just wanted to dress up as the Spirit of Fire himself), he could just as well start wearing one again; in fact, it would solve most of his current problems. Although it would also leave him with two more hours to kill before his hairdresser's appointment.


	2. 3

_**=3=**_

Normally, a weekend in town meant rushing to Consumer Electronics where Omi would grab the latest video game and proceed to drool over some ridiculously expensive device for the next half-hour; dropping by at the supermarket and sneering at supposedly exotic mass-produced tea-blends while pretending not to notice the truly atrocious amount of sweets Omi never failed to stock upon; getting his hair fixed; wandering to the bookstore and buying more books than he could carry; insisting he could manage just fine till he was about to keel over; letting Omi take the damn bag, guide him to the nearest café and order lunch; strolling lazily around the so-called 'wilderness park' (or, as the days grew colder, the museum of questionably fine arts) arguing about whether the evening should be spent at the cinema or at the concert hall; falling asleep in the bus on the way back to the academy and not remembering getting to bed.

Today, since he had no real interest in video-games and his tea supply was still intact, Kaoru headed straight to the bookstore, where he spent fifteen minutes staring longingly at six fine leather-bound tomes of 'Economic theory' he had no hope even to lift, let alone carry all the way back to the bus stop; after three different shop-assistants wondered whether he needed their help, he reluctantly left the shop, ordered a glass of apple-and-celery fresh from a nearby café, stared down two customers who were smiling at him suggestively, and ended up leaving without touching the juice (or paying for it) when the waiter not only dared to hit on him, but also clearly mistook him for a girl.

For the next ninety minutes Kaoru roamed the town aimlessly, stopping in front of every reflective surface to stare at his darkening roots and remind himself that no, he absolutely couldn't just go back to school and leave it like this.

* * *

He had had blond hair for as long as he knew Omi. Literally. His sister had had the hair-dye for ages, determined to get herself a completely new look for her sixteenth birthday; but, as the great day drew nearer, she started wondering exactly what kind of look she was going to get; so Kaoru had volunteered to try it out. Upon seeing the result the sister had shrieked that his hair looked freaking pink and run to drag her numerous girlfriends shopping for a new wardrobe. The next day Kaoru had woken up blissfully hugging the advanced algebra textbook his sister had, as agreed, checked out from her high-school library, and, since it was relatively early, decided to go shock his teachers and antagonize his classmates with his new 'pale mushroom' hairstyle – but found them antagonizing a confused and angry American instead.

Kaoru still liked the exotic look his pinkish hair gave him, even if it didn't seem quite so exotic in BL, where those (exactly three) people who still had their natural dark hair actually stood out (but Kaoru absolutely refused to consider he could be mistaken for Iwai Takuto, whose hair might be actually grey, judging by the air of depression that seemed to be hovering around him constantly). Still, if it meant he had to endure at least four more tedious weekends like this...

At exactly 1 p.m. Kaoru fell into the familiar chair and demanded to have his original hair-colour back.


End file.
